


Fire

by leiascully



Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [14]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Fear, Fire, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all of that, he was still afraid of fire, still haunted by memories of ash and flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 1.12 "Fire"  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

He had failed Scully. He did not deserve her grace or her good will. She had solved the case while he had been mired in the quicksand of old failures. 

He had thought he was over Phoebe. Phoebe had predated Diana, a dark-eyed souvenir of his callow youth. Phoebe had ruined him. He dreamed of her sometimes and woke in a fog of furious, terrified arousal. He'd sweated through his sheets over Phoebe. He'd avoided all iterations of Sherlock Holmes for years after. And yet she snapped her fingers, dangled a case in front of him, and he came running, panting for her approval. His steely resolve had crumpled like aluminum foil at the memory of her touch. Phoebe burned and he went up with her, willingly. 

He knew better, professionally and personally. He understood the psychology of addiction, the random schedule of her approbation that only made him crave it more. The intense dopamine high of sex, the hot pink tracks of her nails raked down his back. The thrill of the forbidden, when every kiss felt as if it were stolen. His studies had suffered during the weeks he'd spent nursing dark ale in the corner of a pub, trying to put himself back together. He couldn't risk the X-Files on a dalliance. He and Scully had planted their feet on tenuous ground that could any moment betray them. And yet. And yet. Phoebe kissed him and he melted.

Meanwhile, Scully went about the work of solving the mystery. She saved lives. She added another notch to the tally of their solve rate. She added to the sum of her knowledge, and she did it all without ever giving him more than a disappointed glance for his treachery. She did their job. It was more than a professional courtesy and he knew it. The most he had managed was to stumble down the stairs with the boys after L'Ively had moved on.

God, he didn't deserve her.

And Phoebe, with her usual flair, had betrayed him again. Of course she was sleeping with Marsden. Of course she was screwing with him. He'd known it from the moment he'd heard her voice and the tape, and he'd still fallen for it. How many times burned, and still not shy? He would have slept with her. He would have laid flat on his back and shown her his belly, let her draw her finger across his throat. She would have torn him to pieces. And Scully would have come along and gently helped him put himself back together, if he managed not to brush her off this time.

After all of that, he was still afraid of fire, still haunted by memories of ash and flame. 

He threw the tape in the trash in the bullpen, and dumped the exhausted coffee grounds on top of it. The smoky smell of them made him cough. His throat was still raw and his shoes still reeked. 

"You okay, Mulder?" she asked when he came back down, steaming cup in hand. He set the other mug he carried on her table by the door. 

"Everything but my pride," he joked. He took a sip and then coughed again. "And my lungs, I guess."

She stood up and pressed the cool backs of her fingers to his forehead, stretching to reach. "You don't feel hot. Just take it easy for a few days. You inhaled a lot of smoke."

"In your professional opinion, I'll be all right?" he asked.

She gave him a tiny smile. "Very professional." She sat down again. "Thanks for the coffee."

He went over to his desk and collapsed in to his chair. "Hey, Scully?"

"Yes?" She didn't look up from the report she was writing.

"Thanks," he said. "I wasn't...thanks. For pulling my bacon out of the fire. So to speak."

"Don't mention it," she told him. "We've all been burned."

"Oh?" he said, leaning forward. "Sounds like a story, Agent Scully."

She smiled again. "And then we heal."

"Unless you're the idiot who keeps sticking his hand in the fire," he said, slouching in his chair.

"Next time, I'll be here to remind you that playing with fire isn't worth it, no matter how pretty it is," she said pertly, sipping at her coffee.

"Ha," he said. "Leave it to the fire guy in the lab. At least he knows when it's too hot to handle."

"Exactly," she said.

"Did you hear about what happened last Thursday?" he began, and they were on to the next mystery.


End file.
